


Still Life

by Holmes_and_the_Roman



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/M, Flashbacks, Fluffy, Grab a tissue, Ugh THE FEELS
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-12
Updated: 2016-05-12
Packaged: 2018-06-07 23:07:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6828940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Holmes_and_the_Roman/pseuds/Holmes_and_the_Roman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elijah Van Dahl discovers that Gertrud Kapelput has died and left him a series of letters she wrote after she was forced to leave the Van Dahl residence. He reminisces on their short-lived romance as he looks through pictures and reads Gertrud's letters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Still Life

“Sir?” A maid quietly entered the enormous study. Elijah Van Dahl looked up from his desk and smiled.

“Come in,” he said kindly.

The maid stepped forward. “Sir, there is a gentleman here to see you. He says he is Gertrud Kapelput’s attorney?”

Elijah’s brows furrowed instantly. He had not heard that name in so long. “Gertrud?” he repeated.

“Yes, sir. Shall I send him in?”

Elijah nodded slowly. “Yes, yes, of course,” he replied. He stood to prepare for the visitor as the maid retreated.

A well-polished gentleman came into the study and smiled sadly. “Mr. Elijah Van Dahl?” he spoke.

“That’s me.” Elijah came around the desk to face the attorney.

“Ted Cabot. I represent Ms. Kapelput,” the man said as he stuck out his hand for Elijah to shake. Elijah accepted the offer and before he could say anything else, Ted added, “Shall we have a seat?”

“Of course,” Elijah gestured to a chair in front of the desk. Both men sat. “May I ask about the purpose of your visit?”

Ted sighed and folded his hands. “I’m afraid I come bearing bad news.” He made eye contact with Elijah and said, “Ms. Kapelput has died.”

Elijah froze, his heart dropping. Gertrud, the love of his youth, dead? He opened his mouth to say something, but no sound came out.

“Do you need a moment, Mr. Van Dahl?” Ted asked in a hushed tone.

“When?” Elijah said suddenly. Ted shook his head in confusion. “When did she....”

“A few days ago, sir. She had a will in place and left you something,” Ted mentioned. He produced a briefcase and opened it on his lap. He pulled out a giant envelope and placed it on Elijah’s desk. “This. She was very specific in that you should be the only one to know it’s contents.”

Ted Cabot closed his briefcase and stood. “I’m very sorry for your loss, Mr. Van Dahl. My condolences to you and your family. I’ll show myself out.”

Elijah watched as the man left without another word. He was left in silence again. He was still in shock from the news and felt numb all over.

“Gertrud,” he whispered, words finally returning to him. His hands shook slightly as deep sadness set in. He wanted to cry, but he could not. He drew a ragged breath and stood abruptly. “Gertrud,” he muttered again as he quickly stumbled to his bookcase. He frantically searched for one book in particular and found it on the top shelf. He pulled it out and brushed away the dust with his hand. He stroked the cover. It was the only evidence he had of his and Gertrud’s relationship.

He took the book to his desk and sat. Elijah slowly opened the photo album and saw his younger self’s handwriting on the paper cover. ‘Elijah + Gertrud.’

As Elijah gingerly flipped through the album containing frozen images of Gertrud’s younger self, he lingered a moment on each photo. He paused in thought, remembering vividly the context of each picture. She was so beautiful… so kind and intelligent. He was sure he could hear her laughter, feel her wild blond curls, smell her sweet perfume mingling with the scents of the kitchen.

Elijah ran a finger over one of them, his favorite. He had captured her as she was gazing out of a window, midday sunlight illuminating her smiling face. Shadows of tree leaves peppered the surrounding area that was lit, but her angelic face was left untouched by a shadow. It appeared as though a halo had formed around her head, her blond hair shining gold. She had her hands busy making bread, and flour dusted her apron and dress. Still life of Gertrud Kapelput.

Tears formed on the edge of Elijah’s eyes. He wanted so desperately to step into the picture and relive their happy but fleeting romance. Their time together was like the first hint of fall, when the sky is crisp blue and the wind sends a small breath of coolness through the trees allowing the full, flowing sound of leaves rustling to calm any anxiety away. They had not a care in the world. Elijah’s heart felt heavy, yet it soared when he pondered upon the day they met.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Elijah Van Dahl was absolutely relieved when he stepped off his college campus. Gotham University was definitely a refuge from his reclusive home life, but even after months of working on the second year of his Master’s degree, he was ready to go home and stay there, at least until Thanksgiving was over.

He walked around the block of the university and found one of his father’s cars waiting for him. A driver stood next to the backseat passenger door, ready to open it on Elijah’s command.

Elijah sighed and stepped up to the car. “Hammond,” he addressed the driver. “I thought I told Father that I could just take a cab home. He didn’t have to send anyone.” Elijah adjusted his messenger bag.

Hammond said nothing in regards to Elijah’s statement, but asked, “May I take your bag, sir?”

“Why did Father send you?” Elijah demanded.

Hammond paused, wincing a bit. “Master Van Dahl _insisted_ , sir,” he said quietly.

Elijah glowered. His father always had to show force. It was a wonder anyone worked for him.

“May I take your bag?” Hammond asked again, this time a bit more seriously.

Elijah removed the bag and gave it to his driver. Hammond opened the car door and waited until the young man was inside before closing it and going around to his place in the chauffeur’s seat. He looked into his rearview mirror to Elijah. “Any stops before you go home, sir?”

Elijah shook his head. “I don’t want to go anywhere but home, Hammond,” he replied lightly. Hammond nodded and began the journey to the Van Dahl estate.

 

Elijah sighed in relief when he saw his home. Even though he only had a few days, he could relax from all of his studies. He only thought of how he would be able to shut himself off from the rest of the world and read in his study. Impossibly boring to others, but exciting to him.

He got out of the car when Hammond pulled up in front of the mansion. Elijah walked up the front steps and into the foyer where the smell of wood polish and cinnamon wafted through the air.

“There’s my precious boy!” Mrs. Van Dahl practically shouted. “Come here, my sweet!” She pranced to her son and embraced him in a tight hug.

“Mother, I see you at least three times a week,” Elijah said, laughing at his mother’s enthusiasm.

Mrs. Van Dahl pulled away. “Am I not allowed to be happy when I see my son?” She patted his cheeks and smiled.

Hammond walked past the mother and son with Elijah’s bookbag in tow. “Thank you, Hammond,” Elijah called.

“Oh! I forgot to mention,” Mrs. Van Dahl exclaimed. She hooked her arm around Elijah’s. “Lucy had to retire. She just left this morning.”

Elijah stared at his mother quizzically. “Then who’s cooking Thanksgiving dinner?”

Mrs. Van Dahl waved her hand in reassurance. “It’s fine. We hired a new girl. Sweet as she can be, but not too bright, poor dear. But she is an amazing cook! Most wonderful mince pie I’ve ever tasted,” she explained.

Before anything else could be said between them, a booming voice from down the hall bellowed, “Mary! Get in here!”

Mrs. Van Dahl rolled her eyes. “Your father needs me. Get Hammond or someone to make you some tea or something,” she said as she walked away, her high heels clopping against the wooden floor.

Elijah watched his mother retreat. _I might just go make myself some tea_ , Elijah thought to himself, ultimately wanting to meet the new cook.

He made his way down to the servants’ quarters where, at the end of the hallway, was the kitchen. Elijah could already smell wonderful scents: spices, pastries, seasoning. He slowed down to breathe in everything.

Suddenly, he noticed that he heard a woman singing. It was a song in another language (Romanian, Elijah thought). Sometimes she would interrupt herself with muttering, but she would continue her happy song. The voice was coming from the kitchen, so Elijah stepped into the room. He no longer heard the voice, and no one was in there.

Elijah looked around, but after he heard and saw nothing, he set about making himself some tea. He began to fill a kettle with water, and stepped away to get the tea bags. When he went to the pantry, someone stepped out of the closet.

They slammed into each other and both screamed. There was a puff of white powder that exploded in between them, and they both fell backwards. The person who ran into Elijah had obviously been carrying flour.

“Oh, forgive me sir! I am so sorry! I did not mean to do this,” said the woman in a heavy Romanian accent.

Elijah coughed and waved away the white powder that was still floating. He could now see the woman a bit more clearly: she had wild curly blonde hair that seemed to go everywhere at once, even though she had attempted to pull it back. She was trying to pick up the items she dropped, so Elijah could not see her face yet.

“It’s fine. I should watch more carfully where I’m going,” Elijah chuckled, reaching for a mixing spoon she had dropped.

“No, no, I get it,” she insisted, grabbing for it at the same time.

Their hands touched and they both looked up at each other for the first time.

Elijah was smitten instantaneously. This woman was beautiful. She had large blue eyes that appeared to always be on the lookout for something curious. Her face was fairy-like, reminding Elijah of old pictures from the 1920s. She was mysterious, yet open at the same time. And he could only imagine what her smile was like.

“I…” Elijah stuttered. “I’ve got it, really.” He gently took the spoon and stood up, the woman following his motion.

She was not very tall when she stood up to her full height, but, then again, neither was Elijah.

He cleared his throat, his gaze still fixed on her. “I’m Elijah. Van Dahl,” he said, thrusting his hand out for her to take.

“Gertrud Kapelput,” she replied meekly, lightly taking Elijah’s hand into her own.

“You’re the new cook, I suppose?” Elijah asked, his ears growing hot.

Gertrud looked down and smiled bashfully. “Yes, I am, sir,” Gertrud said. She looked up from underneath her bangs.

“Please, call me Elijah. ‘Sir’ makes me feel old like my parents,” he requested. Gertrud giggled musically, and that was all it took for him to finally fall head over heels for Gertrud.

“Mother says you make a lovely mince pie.” Gertrud blushed and shook her head modestly. “She does! It’s true! But, unfortunately, I have not had the pleasure of sampling something you’ve made,” Elijah smiled.

Gertrud perked up. “I can get something for you!” She whirled around, her cape of blond hair swishing with her movement.

“Oh, no, I don’t want to bother you,” Elijah interjected.

“It is no trouble! I am making mince pies right now,” she said, going towards the oven. A sheet of the tarts was airing on a cooling rack above the oven. With great speed, Gertrud quickly placed a tart on a small dish and placed a fork on the plate.

“Thank you,” Elijah said graciously. He took the plate and sat at the flour covered table. With Gertrud watching hopefully, Elijah carefully cut off a piece of the tart and forked it into his mouth.

“How is it?” Gertrud asked, her large eyes sparkling.

Elijah nodded and swallowed. “It’s amazing! Mother was right,” he exclaimed.

Gertrud beamed proudly and clapped her hands. “Good! It is my great-grandmother’s recipe. I was told I make it better than her,” Gertrud explained, shaking her head.

“I don’t know how it could be any better,” Elijah said smiling. After a long moment of sweet but awkward silence, Elijah took a few more bites and then stood. “I’m afraid I should get going. Mother will be wondering where I am by now.”

“Of course,” Gertrud replied, nodding.

“It was an absolute pleasure meeting you, Miss…” Elijah’s eyes widened suddenly.

Gertrud’s eyebrows furrowed. “Is something wrong?”

Elijah turned red and chuckled. “Can you say your last name again?”

“Kapelput.”

Elijah sounded it out, “Cobblepot?”

Gertrud let out a tinkling laugh. She shook her head. “Kapelput. But, if it is easier for you, you can say ‘Cobblepot,’” she told him, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

“I’ll practice it, how’s that?” Elijah smiled. “I’ll get it, eventually.”

“Until then, please call me Gertrud.” She held out her hand for Elijah to shake, which he did.

“Very well, Gertrud.” Elijah smiled, blushing. He retreated from the kitchen and upstairs, his heart pounding from excitement.


End file.
